


Ooops!

by dkwilliams



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5061847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/dkwilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slight accident during dinner preparations leads to interesting discoveries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ooops!

**Author's Note:**

> Written before 2001

 

“Ooops?” Methos glared at the Scot, then down at the front of his favorite sweater, now liberally doused with pasta sauce. When Duncan had shown up on Methos' doorstep with two bags of groceries and announced that he was cooking the Oldest Immortal dinner, this hadn't been what Methos had in mind. More like a pleasant evening catching up on each other's news while Methos tried not to obviously lust over the Highlander. Certainly not defending his wardrobe from defilement. “Ooops?”

“Well, if you hadn’t come around the counter as I was taking the pot off the stove – “

Methos ignored the Scot’s indignant defense. “This was my favorite sweater!”

Duncan snorted. “Like I couldn’t tell, as frayed as it is. I already looked like it was ready for the trash bin.”

Methos glared at Duncan. “It’s worn in.”

“It’s worn _out_.”

“That’s beside the point,” Methos said huffily, lifting the sweater to check his chest to see if it had been burned, wiping at the red sauce that had seeped through to his skin.

“Let me help,” Duncan offered, grabbing a dishtowel.

Methos backed away, holding up his hands defensively. “Oh no, you don’t! No telling what you’ll spill on my pants, and then where will I be?”

Duncan flushed at that image and hastily turned away, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. Popping the top, he turned back around, only to find that Methos had stripped off his sweater and was using it to wipe off his chest. The sight of the lean muscled body in front of him startled Duncan and he lost his grip on the bottle, liberally dousing the Oldest Immortal with the contents.

Methos stood, speechless, beer dripping from his hair, his face, and his chest, running down his jeans. He gave Duncan an incredulous look.

“Dislike my jeans, too? Not to mention my hair?”

“Um – “ Duncan said helplessly.

“Much as I like beer, it loses something as a cologne.” Methos extracted the nearly empty bottle from Duncan’s hand and set it down on the counter with a decided thump. “I’m going to take a shower and change. I suggest you sit quietly somewhere and don’t touch _anything_.”

“But – “

Methos held up a warning finger. “Nothing. I’ll finish dinner when I get out.”

Sulking, Duncan sat down in a chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine.”

“Good.”

With one last look at the Scot, Methos headed for the bathroom, shucking his wet jeans in disgust. It was only when he was getting back out of the shower that he realized he had forgotten to take any clean clothes into the bathroom. He frowned for a moment, then shrugged. It wasn't like the Scot would care, as much of a ladies' man as he was. Although there had been times lately when he had felt Duncan's eyes on him, only to look up to see the Highlander hastily avert his eyes, his face flushed.

Suddenly, Methos remembered the look on Duncan's face when he had bobbled the beer. Surprise and arousal had been clear on the Scot's face. Was it possible that Mac might be interested after all, just uncertain how to approach Methos?

Well, there was one way to find out, Methos thought with a devilish grin on his face. He wrapped a towel around his waist, then opened the bathroom door.

Sometime while Methos was showering, the Scot must have gotten over his sulk and was sitting with a beer in his hand, morosely watching the television. Duncan glanced up as the bathroom door opened and his jaw visibly dropped.

Methos suppressed a smile. "Forgot clothes," he said airily, crossing the room to his dresser. He rummaged in the top drawer for boxers, then dropped the towel to put them on. He heard a gasp and then a curse and looked around to see Duncan standing and frantically trying to wipe the beer off the front of his pants. Methos grinned.

"Clumsy today, aren't we?"

Duncan glared at him. "Not funny."

"Oh, I don't know," Methos said. "Depends on your point of view." He watched Duncan's ineffectual attempts to wipe off the beer for a moment. "Here, let me help."

Picking up his discarded towel and still wearing only the boxers, he crossed to the Highlander. He dropped to his knees, rubbing the towel over the damp pants.

He heard Duncan's breath catch and felt the swell of flesh under his hands. Looking up, he saw that aroused look on the Scot's face again. He grinned.

"Something I can help you with, Mac?" he asked and deliberately ran a finger along the zippered front of Duncan's pants.

Duncan's breath caught in his throat. "Tease."

"Oh, I can do more than tease, Duncan," Methos said seriously. Brown eyes met his, blinked, and then a smile lit them. Wordlessly, Duncan caught Methos' hand and pressed it firmly against his groin.

"Please," he said.

Methos smiled and rubbed the hardening cock again with his hand, then unfastened the Scot's pants and drew down the zipper. He pushed the pants down to Duncan's knees, then his briefs, freeing the aroused member. His hand circled the thick shaft and he heard Duncan groan. The sound was like music to his ears, and he stroked the other man's cock with slow, sure movements before bending his head to take it into his mouth.

"God! Yes!" Duncan gasped, his hands automatically moving to Methos' head. Methos grinned and intensified his sucking, running his tongue over the head and sensitive underside. Duncan moaned his name and thrust helplessly, and Methos relinquished control, relishing the abandonment of his new lover's movements. Duncan gasped and then, with a sudden groan of Methos' name, came hard.

Methos swallowed readily, sucking and nursing until the cock was spent and the Scot's legs were shaking. With one final lick of the softening shaft, he sat back on his heels and grinned up at the Highlander. The man's pants and briefs were around his knees, his cock was still semi-erect, and there was a dazed look in his eyes.

Methos grinned widely. "This is a good look for you."

Duncan growled and pulled the other man to his feet, kissing him hungrily even as he backed Methos towards the bed. With a push, he sent Methos sprawling on the bed, divested him of his boxers, and then shed his own clothes. Before Methos had a chance to protest – not that he would have, mind you – Duncan had latched onto the Oldest Immortal's cock and was demonstrating that there were glaring holes in the Highlander's Chronicles.

That was the last coherent thought Methos had until he slumped on the bed, sated and stunned. He gathered together enough energy to pull the other man up alongside him, and Duncan came willingly, giving him a long kiss before curling up with an arm wrapped around his waist. Then the two Immortals slipped into sleep.

 

* * *

Duncan slowly woke up and reached out with a questing hand in search of his bed partner. Encountering only a warm but empty bed, he frowned and then gasped as something cold dribbled over his chest and down towards his groin. His eyes flew open and he saw Methos standing beside the bed, a bottle of chocolate syrup in his hand. Duncan glanced down to see that his body was now decorated with trails of chocolate, and then gave his lover a mock glare.

Methos smiled widely at him. "Ooops."

 

The End


End file.
